Song of My Heart

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Sadie laughed. “You don’t need to worry, Thad.”

  Sid jerked his head to gape at her. Thad?

  “We’re on our way to the café for supper.”

  “Well, then, let’s get you a table.” Sheriff McKane turned and headed for the boardwalk.

  Sid dug in his heels. So now the sheriff seated folks for dinner, too?

  Sadie started to follow, then looked back at Sid. She frowned and scurried to his side. “Come on.” She caught his hand and pulled him onto the boardwalk, where the sheriff stood waiting. She smiled up at the man. “Were you heading to the café, too?”

  “Yes. I eat all my meals at Cora’s, since I don’t have a kitchen.”

  Sadie’s face puckered. “What do you do on Sundays, then? Cora’s is closed on Sunday.”

  The man shrugged—a slow, careless gesture. “Well, last Sunday the mayor and his wife invited me over after church. But I can always eat hard tack and get by.”

  Sid nearly rolled his eyes at Sadie’s expression of sympathy. Why’d she care so much about the sheriff and his stomach anyway? He gave her a little nudge. “Let’s head in, Sadie. I thought you were hungry.”

  She gave him a dark look, which he chose to ignore. With his hand on her back, he hustled her through the door. The sheriff followed on Sid’s heels. Wonderful aromas greeted them. As did noise. Townsfolk chatted and laughed, their voices combining with the clanks of forks on plates. Sid scanned the room, looking for an empty table. He’d never seen the café so crowded.

  Sadie pointed. “Look—nobody’s sitting at the table in the corner.” She frowned, her fine brows pinching together. “But that’s the only open table.”

  “Then we better take it.” Sid started in that direction, but her hands curled around his arm, holding him in place. Her face lifted to the sheriff’s.

  “Thad, it looks as if you’ll have to sit with us.”

  11

  O sing unto the Lord a new song; for he hath done marvelous things . . .’ ”

  Sadie sat with her Bible open to the Ninety-eighth Psalm, following along as the minister read. His choice of Scripture sent a chill up her spine—surely this was the Lord’s way of confirming she’d done the right thing by coming to Goldtree. Beside her, Sid sat straight and attentive, but the stern frown he’d adopted last night at supper seemed permanently etched on his face. How could he frown so in church while a minister shared from God’s Holy Book?

  She whisked a glance over her shoulder, seeking the sheriff, who’d saved the evening by keeping up a stream of friendly chatter despite Sid’s moody silence. Although she didn’t expect to see him—he’d mentioned he planned to attend a different church this morning—she still experienced a prick of disappointment. In a very short time, she’d come to appreciate his cheerful outlook and ready smile. But as much as she enjoyed Thad’s company, Sid seemed to resent it. She wished she could understand why. The two men were close in age. Couldn’t they be friends?

  Turning her focus forward again, she listened to the minister’s simple but straightforward message on the importance of a joyful countenance. She caught herself nodding in agreement at certain phrases and crinkling her brow as she tucked away others for further contemplation later. Mama had told her to choose a church home where she’d be spiritually fed, and by the time the minister offered his final thoughts, she believed she’d already located the perfect place for growth.

  Reverend Wise set aside his big black Bible and boomed from the pulpit, “We have the pleasure of a visitor today—a brand-new resident to Goldtree. Miss Sadie Wagner, would you please stand?”

  Heat flooded Sadie’s face, but she obediently rose under the curious gazes of several dozen congregants.

  “Some of you might’ve met Miss Wagner in the mercantile yesterday, where she’s clerking for Miss Melva and Miss Shelva Baxter. But if you haven’t introduced yourself yet,” the minister instructed in a bright, non-abrasive manner, “take the time to give her a greeting today and help her feel at home.” He lifted his hands. “Now, everyone rise for our closing benediction.”

  The moment the final amen rumbled, folks swarmed Sadie. She shook hands, smiled hello, and declined nearly a dozen invitations to Sunday dinner, since she’d already made plans. When the crowd finally cleared away, she slipped her hand through the bend of Sid’s arm and they strolled east, heading toward his house.

  “Goldtree is a very nice town,” Sadie said, waving at a family rolling past in their wagon.

  Sid didn’t reply.

  Sadie offered, “I can see why you like it here.”

  He continued onward in silence.

  “Everyone is so friendly.”

  A small grunt escaped his lips.

  The pleasure of the morning’s worship and the warm welcome from the community fled. Sadie forgot the minister’s admonition to maintain a cheerful outlook. She came to a halt and gave her cousin’s arm a sharp yank that forced him to stop, too.

  Sid glowered at her, his brows pinched in irritation. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Hugging her Bible to her chest with one hand, she plunked her other fist on her hip and glared at him. “What’s wrong with you? It’s Sunday—the Lord’s day! The sun is shining, we’ve just heard an inspiring sermon, and you’re being a complete grouch.”

  He turned his face to the side and set his jaw in a stubborn line.

  “Sid!”

  The muscles in his jaw twitched, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

  Not once in all of their growing-up years had she witnessed such churlish behavior from her favorite cousin. Aggravation rose up and exploded in a disgruntled huff. “Fine. Be taciturn and muleheaded, if that’s what you want to be. But you can be that way alone.” She whirled and took one step toward Main Street.

  He caught her arm. “But we were gonna have lunch together. I’ve got bread and cheese for sandwiches and a whole peach pie I bought from a neighbor lady.”

  Sadie loved peach pie. Her mouth watered, thinking about sinking her fork through flaky crust into sweet, moist peaches. But then she looked into Sid’s stormy face. Her hunger disappeared in an instant. She pulled her arm free of his grasp. “Eat it by yourself. I have no desire to stay in your company when you won’t talk or smile or act like the Sid I remember from Indiana.” Just two days ago, she’d been so happy to see him. Now all she wanted to do was flee his presence. Tears stung.

  In a much kinder tone, she repeated her earlier question. “What’s wrong with you?”

  He shook his head, looking down. “Nothin’.”

  Sadie sighed. “I don’t believe you, but I’m not in the mood to placate you. So go on home, Sid. When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.” She stomped off toward Main Street. He called her name, but he didn’t come after her, so she kept her head low and scurried onward. Hopefully, Miss Melva and Miss Shelva would have some leftovers from their dinner they wouldn’t mind sharing.

  She rounded the corner and moved quickly past the barber shop and Cora’s café, eager to reach the mercantile. Just as she turned to move through the gap between the mercantile and café, she heard a masculine voice call her name. Her heart lifted, and she looked backward, hoping to see Sid coming after her with a smile and an apology. But no one followed behind her.

  “Sadie!”

  The voice called again, from the opposite direction. Sadie turned her gaze and found the sheriff striding toward her. His wide, friendly grin juxtaposed Sid’s surly expression. Without effort, Sadie answered his smile with one of her own. “Hello, Thad.”

  He leaned his shoulder on a porch post, a casual pose that put Sadie completely at ease. “Did you enjoy the Sunday service with Reverend Wise?”

  “Oh yes. Very much. You were right—he’s a fine speaker.” She hugged her Bible with both arms to give her hands something to do. “Did you enjoy the service at the Episcopal church?”

  He pursed his lips for a moment. “I’m glad I went. Always good to worship with lik
e-minded folks. But I think I liked Reverend Wise’s ways of presenting the gospel a little bit better.” He shifted slightly, his boots shuffling against the planked boards beneath their feet. “With me rotating through the churches, though, I’ll be able to get a taste of Reverend Wise’s teaching on a regular basis. Be nice to just join one, but I think being seen in all of them’s a better idea for me.”

  Sadie nodded, but she’d already made up her mind to attend the Congregationalist church.

  “Well . . .” He pushed off the post, lifting his hand to adjust his Stetson. Most of the men around town wore cowboy-style hats, but for some reason the hat better suited the sheriff than anyone else. “I best let you get on inside an’ grab your dinner. Reckon it’s growing cold.”

  Sadie sighed. “I hope there’s something left for me. I told Miss Melva and Miss Shelva not to expect me, so they might have eaten it all by now.”

  He puckered his brow, as if thinking deeply. “You were going to eat dinner with Sid—I recall he invited you yesterday as we were leaving the café. So what happened? Did he burn the pot roast?”

  Sadie had been embarrassed when Sid asked her to dinner in front of the sheriff but hadn’t included the sheriff in the invitation. Her discomfiture returned as she admitted, “We had a little . . . falling out, and I refused to eat with him. So now I need to find my own lunch.”

  Thad jammed his thumb toward his office. “You’re more than welcome to eat with me. Just crackers, cheese, an’ some tinned ham. Oh, an’ canned peaches.” A boyish grin appeared on his tanned face. “I’m partial to peaches—always have been.”

  Sadie’s heart skipped a beat. “Are . . . are you sure you have enough?”

  “Dunno. How much do you eat?”

  Sadie couldn’t hold back a surprised giggle. He managed to look so serious as he asked the teasing question. She caught herself teasing back. “I’m guilty of gluttony when it comes to peaches.”

  “Hmm. I better open two cans.”

  She laughed again, pleased by his answer. Then propriety beckoned. Tipping her head, she asked, “Are you sure it’s all right, though? For me to eat with you . . . alone . . . ?”

  He sobered. “I sure wouldn’t want to do anything that might be considered unseemly. An’ you’re right—being alone in my office isn’t a good idea.”

  Sadie nodded, disappointed. She enjoyed his company. He made her laugh. He reminded her a lot of Papa—the before-accident Papa: strong, steadfast, prone to good-natured teasing. And handsome to boot.

  He snapped his fingers. “I have an idea. It’s such a pretty day. We’ll have us a picnic on the boardwalk, right under the town’s nose. Nobody can complain if we’re out where they can all see, right?”

  Her spirits immediately lifted. “A picnic sounds like great fun.”

  “Good!” He poked out his elbow. “C’mon. I’ll throw an old blanket on the boardwalk. You can tell me about Reverend Wise’s sermon while we eat. I’m just sure he said something worth repeating.”

  Her cheerful countenance restored, Sadie accompanied the sheriff up the street.

  Thad spread the musty old blanket in the grass at the park area across the street from his office. With the sun directly overhead and no porch overhang to provide shade, he’d suggested they sit beneath the single cottonwood next to the community center. To his delight, Sadie had agreed. She stood nearby with the crate of food cradled in her arms, waiting for him to get the blanket arranged just so. He couldn’t stop smiling. What a pleasure, enjoying a simple lunch with this lovely young woman.

  The blanket as smooth as he could make it, he reached for the crate. “Lemme take that. Sit yourself down an’ I’ll get everything out.”

  “I can help,” she said, kneeling on the blanket.

  “No, now, you’re my guest today. Just sit there an’ let me take care of things.”

  “Very well, then. Thank you.”

  Her appreciative smile did something funny to his insides. He got busy digging in the crate. The battered tin plates that served him just fine didn’t seem good enough to put in front of Sadie, but she didn’t produce so much as a grimace when he knelt across the blanket from her and laid them out.

  While he emptied the crate, she lifted her gaze skyward, releasing a sweet little sigh. “It’s so beautiful. Is the weather always this pleasant in Kansas?”

  Thad chuckled. “No, not always. Kansas tends to be unpredictable.” He peeled back the lid on the ham and poked a fork into the tender pink meat. “Sometimes the coolness of spring stretches clear on into June. Other times it’s hot an’ dry. Been dry so far this year, but not so hot.” He glanced at the sky, too, noting the puffy clouds floating overhead. The tree limbs swayed with the gentle breeze. His nose detected the scents of earth, grass, and something else that reminded him of lemons. Maybe Sadie’s toilet water? “You’re right, though, about it being pleasant.” He admired the turn of her delicate jaw as she continued to survey the blue skies. “Real pleasant . . .”

  She caught him looking at her, and her cheeks splotched with pink. She began fiddling with a blade of grass, giving him a view of the top of her little felt hat. He preferred seeing her face. So he plunked the cracker tin in the middle of the blanket and said, “Let me say grace, an’ then we can eat.”

  He kept his prayer short and simple, then he gestured for her to fill her plate first. She did so, without hesitation, pleasing him with her lack of inhibition. The few times he’d taken a woman out for dinner, he’d observed females tended to pick at food, almost as if eating was something to be endured rather than enjoyed. But Sadie stacked the ham and cheese on crackers and ate without embarrassment. Although she minded her manners—no talking while chewing or putting too much in her mouth at once—she appeared to enjoy herself. When she picked up a can of peaches, stabbed a pinkish-orange wedge with her fork, and carried it directly to her mouth, Thad nearly cheered. Finally, a girl who could be real instead of putting on airs.

  A stronger gust of wind deposited a few bits of brown grass in Sadie’s lap. She brushed them away, unconcerned, before reaching for another cracker. “The wind reminds me of home,” she said. “When I left, Mama was just getting her garden seeds in the ground. I hope they’ve had some rain to make the seeds grow.”

  Thad carved off another sliver of cheese with his pocket knife and popped it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “Do you like gardening?”

  Her face lit. “Oh yes. I enjoy watching the little shoots push through the soil, and then seeing the leaves unfurl. Of course, knowing the plants will provide my family with the food we need to carry us through the winter is also gratifying.”

  “You said you come from a large family?” Thad pushed his plate aside and stretched out on his side, leaning on his elbow. Assuming the lazy pose might communicate his intention to stay for a while, but Sadie didn’t appear offended. She flashed a smile in reply to his question.

  “One sister and four brothers—four active brothers.” She sighed, lifting her gaze to the tree for a moment. “I miss them. And my folks.”

  “So you’re close, then.” He didn’t ask, he stated. Her sigh and the melancholy droop to her lips let him know how lonely she felt, being away from her family.

  “Very,” she confirmed. Shifting to look at him again, she said, “And you? Are you close to your family?”

  Had Thad ever really been part of a family? It’d been him and pa, two people residing under the same roof. But family should mean the people cared for one another, looked out for one another, and took joy in being together. In that respect, he’d never been part of a family. But he didn’t want to say all that to Sadie. “It’s just me now,” he said by way of an answer, allowing her to draw her own conclusions.

  Her heart-shaped face puckered in sympathy. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to be alone.” Another sigh escaped her lips, but it was not light and airy like the last one. She pushed crumbs around her plate with the tip of her finger.

  “Guess you’d
know,” Thad said, “since you’re kind of alone, too, being so far from Indiana.” The wind flipped the corner of the blanket over his plate. Thad flattened it back out and held it down with his elbow. “But you came to sing. So singing’s important to you?”

  Her wistful gaze drifted to the tree branches overhead where a bird chirped from its perch. “I’ve always loved singing. So when Sid wrote and said I could work at the mercantile and also sing in Goldtree’s opera house, Mama and Papa said I should go—to use the gift God had given me.” The bird flew away, and Sadie turned her attention to Thad. “I know I’m meant to be here. My folks and I prayed and prayed for me to find a decent job, and God answered. But it’s very difficult to be so far away from Papa, Mama, Effie, and the boys.”

  Thad kept his voice light, even though his heart had suddenly decided to set up a fierce boom-boom inside his chest. “Are you hoping to have a big family of your own someday?”

  “Of course! Big and boisterous.” She laughed, the sound like creek water tripping over rocks. “I can’t imagine family being any other way.” She reached for the peach can and poked out the last wedge from the bottom, popping it into her mouth with a guileless smile that sent Thad’s heart into his throat.

  Thad slowly sat upright, his limbs quivery. He’d never been a whimsical man, but in that moment he felt as though someone had pushed him over the edge of a cliff and he was soaring in the clouds. In that moment, he lost his heart to Miss Sadie Wagner. And he had no idea how to snatch it back.

  12

  Asa, we already got one back door. Why’n the name o’ all that’s sensible do you gotta put in a second one?”

  Asa sucked in a mighty breath and held it, waiting for the extra oxygen to calm his jangled nerves. Why couldn’t the Almighty have given him brothers instead of a pair of harping, pestering, smothering sisters? When he could speak without snapping, he faced his sister. “As I already told you, Melva, if folks’re gonna be able to get to the singin’ room without walkin’ clean through the mercantile, we got to have another door back here.”